by Rhett DeVane
Officer Rich Burns
Chapter Twenty-three
Hattie caught her longtime friend, Mary Mathues, coming out of shift-change report in the Tallahassee Memorial emergency room. The petite R.N. enveloped her in a fierce bear hug.
“Gosh, it’s good to see you!” Mary’s expression became serious. “Oh, no. This means someone in your family is checking in. Since when do you drop by to see me at . . .” she checked the time on her watch, “seven fifteen a.m.?”
“My cousin’s in for surgery this morning.”
“Not Evelyn?”
Hattie shook her head. “No, no. She’s fine. It’s her daughter, Karen.”
Mary smiled. “The weird cousin from Atlanta?”
“The same.”
“But you guys haven’t had any contact with her for years. Of course, it’s been a while since you and I talked.”
“It’s a long, strange story—one that I’ll tell you in exhausting detail when we can sit down over coffee.”
“Sure. You want me to check in on her after the surgery? She’ll probably be up on three.”
“Actually, she’ll be on seven.”
Mary’s expression darkened. “Oh. The oncology unit.”
“Yeah. Hopefully,” Hattie crossed her fingers, “she’ll have a lumpectomy.”
“Small wonder she came running home. I wouldn’t want to face that alone, either.” Mary pursed her lips. “I think Sue Connell’s the day charge nurse on seven. I’ll call and give her a head’s up before I leave. What’s her full name? I know I should remember it. Heaven help me, I can’t remember shit from shine-ola since I’ve reached my forties.”
“Feel your pain. My cousin’s original name was Karen Fletcher, but her legal name is Mary Elizabeth Kensington.”
“Of course! She’s the one I’ve heard so much about lately. Can you believe it? I didn’t connect that whole story with your family. Am I a moron, or what?”
“It’s not like you don’t have a three-ring circus for a life, Mary. Give yourself a break.”
“I can’t fathom why everyone’s so worked up over her story. I mean, what star in Hollywood hasn’t changed names and invented herself? I don’t get it.”
“Who knows? One of her coworkers has helped to make it into this big hairy deal—like Karen’s the devil with blue eyes.”
“I never understand people who are that vindictive. I mean, my ex-husband’s a pain in the ass, but I don’t go out of my way to ruin his life.”
“He still coming around?”
“Calls every now and then, begging for another chance. After ten years, can you believe it? I don’t berate him in front of Lindy. I want her to have some semblance of a relationship with her father. Honestly, Derek is a lah-ooze-zer. He misses me waiting on his sorry butt.”
“At least you woke up before your whole life passed you by.”
Mary shrugged. “Did you bring your precious baby girl with you?”
“We left Sarah with my brother and his wife. Holston and I are hanging out with Evelyn and Joe for most of the day, and I didn’t want to entertain her. You know how a toddler can be.”
“Just wait till you have a teenager who borrows your clothes and thinks you have the IQ of an ice cube. Young children are a walk in the park by comparison.” Mary rolled her eyes. “On a good note—I’m seeing the most delectable man.”
“It’s about time!”
“You know how it is out there, Hattie. By the time you reach our age, the good ones are taken or horribly flawed.”
“So, tell me. Tell me.”
Mary’s lips curled upward at the edges. “He’s an attorney.”
“Ugh.”
“One of the good ones. I know—I had the same reaction originally. I almost didn’t go out with him.”
“Y’all will have to come over to the Hill one weekend. Holston’s discovered the barbeque grill.”
“What is it about men? They don’t like to cook unless there’s an element of danger involved.”
Hattie laughed. “Hey, I’m not complaining. It keeps me out of the kitchen.”
“Who are you trying to fool, my friend? Your idea of cooking is ripping the cardboard wrapper off a microwave meal. It’s me you’re talking to, Hattie.”
“You would be amazed at how much I’ve learned. I didn’t cook much when I was single. Why bother? I find I actually enjoy it now, as long as I don’t get too carried away and start doing it every day.”
“Will wonders never cease.” She grinned. “Look, I gotta run. Lindy’s in a dance production at Leon High later this morning, and I don’t want to miss it. I’ll be sure to call and plan a weekend soon.”
Mary gave her a quick hug.
“I’ll phone Sue on seven and put the word out on your cousin. Don’t worry. They’re a great bunch up there. She’ll be well taken care of.”
Karen squinted in an unsuccessful effort to bring her mother’s features into focus.
“I’m just going to step out for a second, honey. I need to make sure they’ve gotten my roll-away cot ordered for tonight.”
“You don’t have to stay with me, Mama. I’ll be all right.” Her tongue felt as heavy as wet shag carpeting.
“Nonsense. You’ll need me to watch over you, at least for the first couple of nights.” She leaned over and kissed Karen lightly on the cheek. “Back in the blink of an eye.”
The preoperative sedative calmed the rising tide of fear and anticipation. Karen closed her eyes. Immediately, the dream appeared, unbidden. She stood at the threshold of the cave, desperately peering into the darkness. The thing loomed. One step closer . . . another . . .
“Karen?” A soft voice asked.
She fought the drug-induced drowsiness and opened one eye. A female nurse stood by the gurney.
“You better call me Mary Elizabeth.” Her words emerged haphazardly, bumping into her thick tongue on the way out. “On my chart. My insurance won’t pay if you put my real name, Karen Fletcher. S’long story.”
The young nurse smiled. Karen opened both eyes to slits and peered at her name tag, but the letters smeared together. “Don’t you want to ask my birth date?”
“No.”
“Why not?” She swallowed in a vain attempt to moisten her scorched mouth. “Everybody else has. That’s so you guys don’t mix me up with some woman who needs her leg cut off.”
Karen offered a loopy grin. The nurse lingered. “Oh, I see. You’re here to wheel me to surgery, then.”
“No.”
“I’ve already given blood and peed. What more do you want? Is there something else?”
The nurse rested a warm hand on Karen’s shoulder. A gentle peace flowed through her body.
“Umm. These drugs are great. I really don’t care if you cut off my leg.” The image of hopping around on a single high-heeled pump flashed in her mind and she giggled.
“Everything is going to be fine, Karen. Don’t worry. We’re watching over you.”
The room swam in and out of focus, causing her to feel slightly dizzy. She closed her eyes. “That’s nice. Thanks for stopping by to let me know.”
Her mother’s voice: “Honey?”
“Umm?”
“The man is here to take you to surgery now. I love you more than life itself.”
Karen felt her mother’s lips brush her forehead.
Her father’s voice: “We’ll be right here waiting on you when you come out of recovery, sugar plum.”
“That nice nurse told me it’s going to be okay.”
Her mother’s voice: “What nice nurse, honey?”
Karen tried to lift her head, but the effort was too great. “She was just in here.”
“You must’ve dreamed it, sugar,” Evelyn said. “I was right outside the door talking on the phone to the folks down in central registration. I didn’t see anyone come and go from this room.”
The hospital attendant flipped open the chart. “Your name?”
“Mary Elizabeth Kens
ington, at least for the time being.”
“Date of birth?”
“September 29, 1946. I’m a Libra—sign of the scales. We like balance in our lives.” She giggled.
“What procedure are you having today?”
“Boob! They’re cutting out a piece of my boob!”
She heard her mother stifle a nervous chuckle.
He snapped the metal clipboard shut and laid it on the end of the bed. “Okay, then. Here we go.”
Her father asked, “Surgical waiting area?”
“First floor, Sir.”
“We’ll see you real soon, baby!” her mother’s voice rang out behind her.
Karen kept her eyes open long enough to watch a succession of fluorescent ceiling lights pass overhead before she slipped into oblivion.
“Some folks use the packaged vanilla pudding for the custard filling. Not my mama. She says it’s not real banana pudding if you don’t make the filling from scratch.”
Rich Burns
Rich Burns’s Mama’s Nanner Pudding
3 ½ Tablespoons all-purpose flour
1 ½ cups white sugar
dash of salt
3 eggs, separated
3 cups milk
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
1, 12-ounce package of vanilla wafers
6 medium bananas
¼ cup plus 2 Tablespoons sugar
To make the custard: Combine the flour, 1 ½ cups white sugar, and salt in a heavy saucepan. Beat egg yolks. Mix the egg yolks and milk together, well. Stir into the dry ingredients. Cook over medium heat, stirring constantly, until smooth and thickened. Remove from heat and stir in one teaspoon of the vanilla.
Layer one-third of the vanilla wafers in a 4-quart baking dish. Slice two of the bananas and layer over the cookies. Pour 1/3 of the custard over bananas. Repeat the layers twice.
Meringue topping: Beat egg whites (at room temperature) until foamy. Gradually add remaining sugar, one tablespoon at a time, beating until stiff peaks form. Add one teaspoon of vanilla and beat until blended. Spread meringue over filling, sealing to the edges of the dish. Bake in a 425º oven for about 10 to 12 minutes, or until lightly browned on top.
Note: as a variation, I sometimes stir in about a ½ cup crushed, drained pineapple to the filling.
Chapter Twenty-four
The phrase strength in numbers could have served as the family motto. With the arrival of Pinky Green and Wanda Orenstein, the head count of the anxious gathering bivouacked in one corner of the surgical waiting area of Tallahassee Memorial numbered ten. Evelyn and Joe were flanked by Byron, Hattie, and Holston on one side, and the Reverend Thurston and Lucille Jackson on the other. Elvina Houston insisted on pacing back and forth in a path between the group and the reception desk manned by a woman in a pink jacket, fondly known as a Pink Lady volunteer.
“Elvina, I think you best leave the little Pink Lady alone,” Evelyn commented. “She’s beginning to regard us with an evil eye.”
“Nonsense!” Elvina plopped reluctantly into a vinyl upholstered chair. “Don’t let that blank look of empathy on her face fool you. She’s got a finger on the pulse of most of what goes on in the O.R.”
“She looks familiar,” Hattie added.
“Of course she does.” Elvina aimed a bony finger in the volunteer’s direction. “She’s been over here practically since the hospital opened its doors. She’s older than Methuselah.”
“Now that you mention it, I remember her from the time I spent in here during Jake’s emergency surgery.”
Elvina sniffed. “It’s a control thing with these Pink Ladies, I tell you. They like to act like they’re dumb as a stick, but believe you me, that one there has snooped enough to know if Karen’s been moved to the recovery room.”
“Oh come now, Miz Elvina,” Lucille said. “Give the poor soul a break. She deals with families at the worst times of their lives, and seems to really care. I think these volunteers deserve a heap of credit.”
“Well . . .” Elvina crossed her arms, sullen.
Joe checked his watch. “Been two hours now. Reckon we’ll hear pretty soon anyway.”
The double doors swung open and Dr. Strathmore, the surgeon, entered the room “Mr. and Mrs. Fletcher?” He approached the group.“Your daughter is in recovery. If you will step into the consulting room, I’ll fill you in on the details.”
Evelyn’s face revealed her fear: the stunned expression of a night-prowling deer frozen in the headlights of an oncoming car. Joe rested his arm around his wife’s shoulders and urged her to stand and follow the doctor.
Dr. Strathmore closed the windowed metal door and motioned for them sit at a round table. “I’m encouraged by my findings.”
Evelyn expelled a large breath. “Oh, thank God.”
“We saved the breast. Mary’s tumor was much smaller than the first set of measurements prior to her chemotherapy treatments. It was two by three centimeters.” He grabbed a pad of paper and a pen and sketched an irregular circle the size of a pea. “The tumor I removed today was less than six millimeters in diameter.”
“Quite a difference,” Joe commented.
“Only piece of bad news is that I found a micrometasasis in one of her lymph nodes—one of the sentinel nodes we excised. We took fifteen total, and we’ll have the lab reports soon to see if it was the only one.”
Joe frowned. “And that means?”
“More than likely, adjuvant chemotherapy along with radiation.”
Evelyn felt tears gathering in her eyes. “What about her chances later on?”
“The cancer was a non-aggressive type, largely contained in a duct. Dr. Keegan will speak to her about follow-up care. Most routinely, a course of radiation is highly advised. The percentage of recurrence without it is roughly thirty percent, where the addition of post-operative radiation decreases it to five percent.”
Evelyn picked at a hangnail until a small pearl of blood appeared. She grappled in her purse for a tissue. “She has to go through more of that dreadful chemotherapy.”
Dr. Strathmore replied, “Dr. Keegan will be making that call, Mrs. Fletcher.”
Evelyn wrung her hands together, whipping the blood-spotted tissue into a tight wad. “Can we see her?”
“She will be in recovery for about forty-five minutes to an hour. As soon as she wakes up, I’ll have the nurse come get you. We should be moving her up to seven soon afterwards. Barring any complications, I expect to release her in two or three days.”
Joe stood and shook the doctor’s hand rigorously. “We can’t thank you enough, Dr. Strathmore.”
He smiled. “You are very welcome. Your daughter’s continued health will be my reward. Now, if you will excuse me, I’m due in surgery in twenty minutes.”
“There’s no rest for the weary, is there, Doc?” Evelyn said.
“Not most days.”
Hattie lowered the day’s copy of the Tallahassee Democrat to check on her cousin. Karen’s eyes were open a slit.
“Hey, you.” She leaned over and rested her hand on Karen’s. “How’s life in lah-lah land?”
Karen blinked her eyes and tried to focus on the wall clock next to the suspended television. “What time is it?”
“Just after three in the afternoon. Your mom and dad went to grab a late lunch. Joe couldn’t take the hospital cafeteria food anymore. Simpy left to get some rest and eat. He was pretty wiped out after filming the surgery and hanging around in post-op. I think it got to him a bit, but don’t tell him I said so.” She smiled. “You want some ice chips? Or, maybe some juice? The nurse said you could have anything you want now that you’re a day past the anesthesia.”
“Some apple juice?”
Hattie jumped up. “Sure. I’ll go raid the pantry. No need to call the R.N.”
She appeared shortly with a plastic cup and straw. “Take it slowly, Karen. This whole surgery adventure does a number on your stomach, and you don’t want to get nauseated.”
She held th
e juice cup and helped her cousin drink.
“Whew!” Karen allowed her head to drop onto the stacked pillows. “Even that wears me out.”
“How are you feeling in general?”
“All right.”
“No pain?”
“A little stinging around the incisions, but the morphine pretty much nixes the pain. I’m a little itchy—like things are crawling on my skin.” She rubbed her forearm vigorously. “I’ll be glad to get these leg wrap things off. They’re making me sweat.”
“Those keep you from forming blood clots in your legs, Karen. Really important when you’re flat and not moving around much. As soon as you are up and parading up and down the halls in your fancy open-air gown, they’ll be history.”
The three-to-eleven nurse, Dawn Ebert, knocked and entered the room, grabbing the flip-chart on her way. “Oh, I see you’re awake. Good! Dr. Strathmore wants you up and walking some this afternoon.”
Dawn went through the routine vital signs check, then emptied the urine collection bag and recorded the measurements. “You have a low grade temp—99.3°.”
“That bad?”
“Pretty normal after surgery, as long as it doesn’t start to spike. Actually, it’s generally a bit higher in the afternoon. We’ll keep an eye on it.” She smiled warmly. “How’s your pain level on a scale of one to ten, one being no pain, and ten being extreme pain?”
“The little I’ve had, maybe three?”
The nurse checked the PCA—patient controlled analgesia—monitor. “You haven’t used much of your morphine. We’ll probably take this away by tomorrow morning and use oral pain medications afterwards.”
She flipped the chart shut. “How about lunch? Were you able to eat anything?”
“I had a little chicken soup and some lime Jell-O.”
“I recall the lime Jell-O,” Hattie said. “It’s always lime Jell-O in a hospital. I can’t fathom why they don’t branch out into any of the other delightful flavors.”
